Path of the Kal'enedral
by Junipertree
Summary: Maybe R, I'm not sure. This is basically my take on what make someone want to be Swordsworn.


This was a little idea of mine… basically formed from the question 'what makes a Shin'a'in want to be Swordsworn

This was a little idea of mine… basically formed from the question 'what makes a Shin'a'in want to be Swordsworn? What makes it worth the price?' So I hope this will make sense, somehow. Whatever. I also suck at thinking up Shin'a'in-sounding names, so just let it pass, 'kay?

I also made up some words, like the Shin'a'in version of "ashke" and "ke'chara" (ash'kae, kei'chera). 

I also think that perhaps the 'swordsworn tent experience' is different for everyone- and Tarma's experience was unique anyway. So it'll be different, somewhat.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Mercedes Lackey's stuff.

****

Path of the Kal'enedral

Keyala shena Vuysher'edras lowered her sword, sweating. She was quite small, the shortest of her age and even shorter than some who were years younger in the Clan, but she could still fight like a demon.

"Excellent! You are a very good student, _jel'enedra._"

She looked up at her older sister and smiled. "Never as good as you, Dithine."

Dithine laughed, but it was true. Her swordsmanship was the best in the Clan, and she could only be bested by the Kal'enedral. But Dith was very generous with her praise, and she had a soft spot for her little sister.

"No, I mean it." Dithine insisted. "You've got a gift. Even Mhuw'ina says you're good." Mhuw'ina was the Kal'enedral who had taught Dithine, from a neighboring Clan.

"_Hai,_ whatever you say." But Keyala shook her head, clearly not believing her sibling's words. She picked up the sheath and her towel from a few feet away and sheathed her sword, wiping the sweat off her face, and went to her tent to clean up and change.

Dithine watched Keyala go. _Should I tell her what else Mhuw'ina said?_ she thought. _That she had the makings, not just in skill, to be Kal'enedral? _She shook her head. _No. She seems so happy, so carefree. To give her the burdens of the Swordsworn wouldn't do her any good. _Dithine chuckled to herself. _And she's got a whole train of young men following her about like geese. No, I think it's better she decided what she should do on her own, without any outside influence. And the most I can do is be the big sister I am._

~*~

Keyala swept back the flap of her family's tent, her hair still wet from her quick wash. Her mother and father were out, and wouldn't be back for a while, so she had some privacy. She went to her section and pulled out some clean clothes, thinking while she changed into them. _Does Dith really think I'm that good?_ She wondered. _I'm not particularly good at anything else except fighting. I'm an awful weaver, I don't have any mage-Gift, I really don't like small children, and I'm average at training horses. _She sighed._ I don't want to be with the same Clan all my life. I love Vuysher'edras, but I want to get out there. Meet people. Get to know _all_ the Clans. _Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice someone entering the tent.

"Re'amin!" Keyala greeted him.

"How's my little _kei'chera_?" he said, putting his arms around her and kissing her. Giggling, she kissed him back. 

"Just fine, _gestena._ Dithine was just giving me a whacking, and I came in to get changed."

"Care to take those clothes off again?" he murmured in her ear.

Surprised, Keyala drew back. "No!" she said, fiercer than she had intended. "I mean-"

Re'amin looked hurt. "Don't you love me, Keyala?"

"_hai'she'li_! I just- just not now." 

He nodded, but not happily, and left the tent without a word.

Keyala shivered. She wouldn't, couldn't tell him, but she was scared. She'd never done it before, and was afraid it would hurt- she was so small, and he…

She didn't want to do it. Your virginity is something you lose once, then it's gone forever. She wanted to keep it as long as she could.

__

You could keep it if you were Kal'enedral.

The thought bubbled up uninvited from her mind, surprising her. Kal'enedral? She could never do it. Besides, it wasn't the person who chose to be Swordsworn, it was the Star-Eyed who accepted or denied the person. For all her seeming innocence and carefree manner, Keyala was as pious as a shaman when it came to her Goddess. But it all fit- her skill in fighting, her desire to meet people, to _do_ something, be something different. But Kal'enedral?

__

No. It's too rash. Too much responsibility- do I really want to devote my life to the service of the Warrior and the Clans? And no matter what she thought- she really didn't want to take a vow of chastity. She was still curious- terribly curious.

Her mind was reeling with these thoughts. _I'll decide later. I can't resolve everything right now. Later._

~*~

Maybe a week later, Keyala was sitting by the evening campfire with the rest of the Clan, ready to bed down for the night, making light conversation with the others of the Brothers of the Wolves. She snuggled up beside Re'amin, feeling the warmth of the fire on her skin, finishing the last of her meal. He had his arm around her, and his breath on her shoulder was a warm comfort against the cold of night on the Plains.

His warm breath raised from her shoulder to her ear. "Are you ready yet, my ash'kae?" he whispered. He had been asking that same question every night since that first evening, many nights ago, and every night she had turned him down. It had become a sort of game between them- but this time, she was going to take the plunge.

"Yes," she whispered back. "Yes."

He looked upon her with anticipation, arousal, warmth, and was that- love? Re'amin smiled and stood up, offering his hand. Keyala took it, and she received knowing looks and winks from others as they left the fire. Re'amin led her to his bachelor tent, a small one, but cozy, and very, very private…

Her blood started to heat up as he slowly removed her clothes, and she did the same to him. She lay on her back with him above her, almost paralyzed with fear. She had tried everything to calm herself, but she was scared, so scared. But at the same time she desired him with all her body, wanting to join to him in love.

He lowered himself onto her, readying for a thrust. He'd said he would be gentle, but in his passion he was getting worked up, he was forgetting it all. He raised up and drove into her hard and deep, and Keyala threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in Re'amin's hair so he would not se tears of pain dripping from the corners of her eyes. 

All through it she felt a strange mixture of pleasure and pain, passion and fear, that made her want to drive him deeper into her and retch at the same time. It was disturbing; she didn't feel herself anymore, she felt consumed by the desires of her body and mind. _Oh, just let it end, let it end,_ she thought. 

And as Re'amin let go inside of her she felt as if she was losing something, like water it was slipping through her fingers, falling into the ground of the Plains. She fell to her feet and dug in the earth trying to find it, but it was not there. Gone- forever gone.

~*~

Keyala walked into the tent, not looking once behind her at the faces of her family and friends. Closing the flap behind her, she looked about in the tent. There were four alters: one for the Maiden, one for the Mother, one for the Crone, and one for- the Warrior. East, west, north, south; blossom, sheaf, stone, flame. 

Slowly the words of the song emerged from her lips, note by note they came. When she was done, immense silence fell over the tent. Then a little wind, a soft spring breeze, began to blow from the altar of the Maiden. A warm summer wind joined it from the west, and a cold winter draft from the Crone came from the north. Then from behind her came the south wind, the Warrior's wind. It seemed to probe her, test her, look deep into the corners of her soul, looking at her darkest secrets.

Soon the four winds whirled around her, forming a whirlwind that whipped her braids and clothing about her face- but did not ever stir the walls of the tent. The air around her grew dark as night, speckled with only a few tiny stars. Mist swirled around her vision, and it seemed to form eyes, many eyes, around her. But she could never pinpoint exactly where the eyes were; they seemed to move incessantly. She felt something sinking into her, filling the gaps with a shining light. Then- if eyes could smile, these eyes did. Suddenly a Shin'a'in woman stepped out of the mists, bright sword unsheathed. 

Light flashed in Keyala's eyes, and when she could see again, the woman was gone, and her braids cut off on the floor of the tent.

She opened the flap, and stepped out.

Slowly she looked into the eyes of each person standing there, each pair of eyes said a different thing. Then she looked at Re'amin.

His face was a mixture of hurt, confusion, pride, and reluctance. Their eyes locked.

__

I chose the right path, and I'm going to walk it to the end, she thought at him. _Never get in my way._

As if he had heard her thoughts, he gave a weak smile, and she could see that maybe he didn't like it, but he had accepted it. As he would have to. He could never make love to her again- for she had chosen her life, and nothing he could say or do could change it- she had chosen the path of the Kal'enedral.

________________________________________________________________________ 

Well, that's my second serious ML fic. I thought it was pretty good- so review! And as for why one bad experience made Keyala go swordsworn? Well, it wasn't just that, it was that the lifestyle of Kal'enedral suited her in every way. And do you recognize that 'mixture of pain and pleasure' thing? That's what Falconsbane did to his victims. Doesn't that disturb you? It sure as hell disturbs me. 

-Hysterically Yours,

Junipertree

(I got that from a Stranger Than Fiction rubber stamp)


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